


I Could Never Let You Go

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 00:54:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19162510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Slice of life, dancing to ABBA. What else do you really need? Third year.





	I Could Never Let You Go

 

 

A dying fire crackled in the Gryffindor dormitory’s common room, late at night, for two wizards and a witch studying by the dim light. Hermione, who had her books and parchment splayed around her, poured over charts efficiently, scrawling little notes to herself whenever she deemed something memorable. Ron, sat on the other side of the fire as her, had been picking at his nails instead of writing his paper, having run out of ways to restate the same points he’d been making the past two pages. In the middle of the two, on the couch, Harry was having the same luck as Ron- he’d reread the same passage in his book several times and still had not absorbed any of the information. Hermione would glance at the two occasionally, the urge to bestow her wisdom on the tip of her tongue fighting this ever growing feeling that boys didn’t particularly like when she knew better than them. She cleared her throat and returned back to her charts. Harry blew air from his cheeks and leaned his head back on the couch.

On the side table, an object caught his eye. The transmitter that George and Fred had given him for his previous birthday, enchanted to tune into the satellite at Privet Drive, because they paid attention to the mixtapes Harry and Hermione would swap, with their favorite songs by muggle bands. George had mentioned, upon giving the gift, that they should be able to listen to more than the same eight songs all year. Harry smiled at the memory and reached over to turn it on.

Hermione and Ron startled at the radio crackling to life, and Harry had to sort through several stations of white noise before a tinny, distant voice announced the next song, underneath a climactic opening guitar riff. Harry’s book discarded, he was already on his feet by the first line.

_“I’ve cheated by you, since I don’t know when”_

Harry was standing over Hermione, hand extended. “Dance with me.” He smiled down at her. She returned a tired smile and shook her head. “I don’t dance, Harry.”

_“So I made up my mind, it must come to an end”_

Harry stuck out his lower lip in a pout, rocking to the balls of his feet and moving his hips to the beat of the music.

_“Look at me now, will I ever learn? I don’t know how, but I suddenly lose control. There’s a fire within my soul.”_

Harry, who’d heard this song on the radio over summer and had since danced to it alone in his room many times, mouthed the lyrics, which produced a giggle from Hermione.

_“Just one look! and I can hear a bell ring. One more look! and I forget everything”_

 

Harry turned on his heels, made his way over to Ron on the loveseat, walking towards him with his arms out and his hands splayed. Ron’s face shifted from humored to fear. He shook his head. “Oh no, Harry-“ but Harry had already taken Ron’s hands, the parchment rolling from his lap on the floor. _“Mamma mia! Here I go again! My, my. How can I resist ya?”_

Harry placed Ron’s hand on his hip and grasped the other and began to lead him in an improvised box step waltz. Hermione leaned back on her hands and smiled up at the two boys from her spot on the floor. She laughed when Ron stepped on Harry’s foot, and Harry responded by twirling Ron around twice.

 

Ron was completely pink in the face, but he had to admit he was having fun. He stretched his arms out, still holding Harry’s hands, and began to twist to the rhythm. Harry straightened his fingers so their palms were flat on each others, arms pushed to the side. They were laughing, almost louder than the music. Hermione watched the two dance, a wide grin played on her face. The radio crackle synchronized with the fire, which seemed to have come back to life on its own. The boys smelled of lanolin, courtesy of Molly’s new wool sweaters, a scent that complemented the wafting cocoa butter from Hermione’s forearms as she rolled up her own sweater. Harry and Ron’s heels digging into the carpet kicked up a slight musty stench, but the three third years were used to it by now. The waltz turned into more of a swing dance, with Ron and Harry throwing in as many barrel roll twirls without getting too dizzy as they could.

 

They broke their interlocked hands, and Harry threw his limbs out with flair on time with the rhythm. Ron was trying to follow along, but it was clear they’d taught themselves very different rules about the way they could move their bodies about when dancing. Harry went ham on an air guitar that Ron cocked his head at, but it made Hermione laugh and clap her hands, so Ron decided it was funny as he rocked to the music and wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. He was content, watching Hermione’s curls float around her face and shoulders as she swayed her head to the music, thoroughly amused by Harry- all angles and limbs, prancing around the room in elation. His shock green eyes met Ron’s occasionally, and they just looked sharper in the dim light and against his skin, glowing from the light of the fireplace. Ron smiled wide, the mass of freckles on his cheeks crinkled by his eyes. Harry shot the same smile back, his teeth brilliant white as he produced a full body laugh.

 

The song began to wind down and Ron backpedaled to his seat, stealing a quick look at his friends. His chest rose and sank in exertion, and yet, all he could focus on was how truly and deeply he loved these two in front of him. It was a familiar warmth, the one that came from Weasley family breakfasts and Christmas dinners and birthdays. For Hermione, it was being home with her parents, or at the library with no one else around, staying up late to finish a particularly good book. For Harry, this was all the warmth he knew, all the comfort he needed.


End file.
